A Millennium of Heart
by Roxu
Summary: A 1000 Years, 365,242 Days, 8,765,808 Hours, 525,948,480 Minutes – And she's still counting her time with him. Victoria Valentine refuses to leave Elijah Mikaelson's side anytime soon.
1. A Meeting of Sorts

**_Prologue_**

- **_A Millennium of Heart - _**_A Meeting of Sorts_

- _10__th__ Century; the Americas_

"Must you get into such situations, Tatia?" Victoria Valentine drifted her slim fingers through the laces of the satin dress, plucking gently to remove the filthy and mud-specked clothing. "Your father disapproves." Victoria could not even count on her fingers how many times that the father of Tatia would rant and complain about her un-lady like habits.

"Oh, do not worry, Vic – it was just some innocent fun!" Tatia giggled into her hand, where dirt was caked beneath her neatly clipped fingernails. "Niklaus and Elijah are fun to play with!"

Victoria felt a frown fall upon her pale face. "Boys, you say?" She wasn't sure how to respond to that. She helped Tatia remove the dress, and when the girl stepped into the scalding hot water of her bathing area, she instantly set upon herself to grab the lavender bar of soap to begin the girl's washing. Boy's, she knew, noticed Tatia all the time. She was almost reaching her seventeenth winter, an appropriate time for marriage to someone the father deems worthy. Victoria knew it wouldn't be too long; Tatia was a beautiful young girl with an oval face, almond-shaped brown eyes, and smooth, long dark brown hair. Her height is average and she has a slim, slightly athletic physique. Her hair was gloriously long, with natural waves. "Boys are no good."

Tatia rolled her eyes energetically. "Say, say; Victoria, why have you not found any man? Do they not suit your needs?"

_Quite the opposite, my dear, _she pondered in her head, smiling down at the girl. "Marriage holds no purpose for me, Tatia." She commanded her to dunk her head back, and she glided her fingers through her hair to remove the sudsy substance. "Get out and dry yourself, please, I shall be back," Victoria strolled back to the adjacent room, her hands skimming through the selection of nightgowns that were shades of: lilac, crème, opal pink and scarlet red. She collected the lilac and swiftly traveled back to where Tatia was ringing water from her long brown hair, standing there completely bare.

It had never bothered Victoria to see people without their bearings, it was natural and if you had no scars or personal problems – why should you be embarrassed by such a thing? "Thank you, Vic," Tatia threw the woman a wide, radiant grin. She assisted in wrestling the gown over the girl's head and plaiting her dark hair to the side, where she tied it together with a coil of lace.

"You must get to bed now," Victoria swatted at the air, leading Tatia toward her bed chambers. She tucked the brown-eyed girl into the soft layers of quilts and cotton. "Goodnight, sweet Tatia."

"'Night," she drawled back tiredly.

Victoria felt herself smiling once more as she left the residence room, taking her time to stroll down the corridor of the house. Tatia's father, Alexander, was a well-known merchant and made a swell wealth here in this small, provincial community. It was the reason why he hired Victorya Valentine as his servant and maid to look after his only daughter.

Women were not made to work, physical labor was far too overpowering – but even if, even maids and servants were not meant to be, that was the mother's profession as the cooker and cleaner. So you could only imagine how Victoria was ridiculed and mocked throughout the area by the townswomen and more especially, men. They made comments that made Victorya blush heavily to the tips of her ears, but she was a lenient woman since her twenty-sixth winter just passed by a few days ago.

Victoria always considered herself to be calm and kind toward everyone that she met, even if they were rude or intolerable. When a man had once told his male friend a tad too loudly, "_A woman on her knees constantly_," Victoria had glanced at him from her walk and had replied: "_I do try my best to keep the floor clean." _Perhaps her voice had been sarcastic in a sense, but the point was, her answer had been respective enough.

"Is she asleep?" Alexander gazed at her over the rim of his wine gauntlet as he perched himself at the dining table. Victoria entered the room with wax candles illuminating her features with a golden hue. She was a tall woman, with brown curly short hair that spiraled so much it was untamable. Her eyes were dark, nearly black. Her most noticeable, distinguished facials were her defined cheekbones and full lips.

"Yes sir, she is," Victoria spoke to him with both respect and a knowledgeable nod.

"Very well," he reached in his pocket and pulled out a bag of gold and silver coins that clinked together when they touched. "Go to the market and buy what you regard necessary." By that, she knew he meant foods, bathing products, utensils and any other stock she required. She admired him for his trustworthy nature toward her, she was happy to know that he devoted his money to her.

"Of course, sir, by your leave?" When he nodded gradually, Victoria hitched up the bottom of her velvet red working dress she wore around the house and quickly departed from the residence.

She was content to smell the fresh dew of grass that was beginning to present itself since nightfall was setting slowly. Victoria glanced up at the sunset, rays of tangerine orange and salmon pink flowing across the air. It was a beautiful sight, always seeming to captivate her heart in its fair grace.

Victoria briskly ambled toward the Markets, knowing full-well that they would be closing soon enough since darkness was approaching noon. She faltered in her steps on the dirt pathway, cursing silently at her foolishness. She had forgotten her weaved basket, _again_, so now it was mandatory to haul all of her purchases by herself. Certainly, it was a humble town – but carrying items that she could possibly not hold up for long periods was something she did not look forward to.

She ended up obtaining a single, small quilt, – its purpose was to cart the remaining merchandise – a variety of food, bathing essentials, and a sharp knife for cutting meats. The knife she had used had been broken accidentally by her own clumsiness. "Thank you, darling, have blessed dreams" one of the kind elderly women called to her, smiling at her struggling attempts tugging the bulging quilt over her shoulder.

Victoria remarked that most of the women had folded up their hanging clothes, the children had retreated into their cottages, and the men were at the doorsteps, removing their swords and muddy boots from a long day of ranching cattle and horses.

She heaved a breathless sigh through her dry lips, noticing her throat quenched for water. Victoria had almost forgotten the fact that she had only devoured one meal today, nothing more and nothing less. She knew it wasn't healthy, not in the slightest, but she was trying not to burden or abuse Sir Alexander's money in anyway. She only got paid after several days of hard work, and it was enough for five decent meals – so she always had to stretch out when she ate her brunch.

A good hundred paces away from Alexander's cottage, Victoria smiled with relief – but it was quickly morphed into a shock expression as she felt something snag at her wrist and jerk her into the foliage of the forest that had been directly to her right. A cry of surprise burst through her throat, burning her lips as her fingers were forced to let go of her makeshift basket. Food and soap scattered along the forest floor, a head of lettuce rolling away. Victoria was going to glance up at whoever dared to grab her in such a manner, but she tried to scream when fingers dug into her mouth, silencing her protests.

Her attacker was a male, which was judging based on the weight that was balancing ontop of her. Victoria tried to fight him, kicking and hitting, but her arms were sore from lifting the quilt and her legs were tangled into her red dress. She felt her head being wrenched back, a rough hand dragging from her throat, over her chest, and toward the hem of her clothing where he could lift and see more of her.

Victoria felt tears glistening at the edge of her eyes before spilling down the sides of her temples. She had said before that nudity was a common thing and that no one should be embarrassed of it – but this was _humiliating_. The fact that she knew this man was violating her in every way possible is what made it so much more shameful.

She tried to scream, to make any compromising noise, but when she actually succeeding in doing so, Victoria felt a pain that blossomed on the left side of her face. Gasping in agony, she could only hang limply as the man dragged her farther back into the forest, the bottom of her torn dress falling away in clumps of fabric. "_Please_," she moaned dreadfully, "just stop."

She nearly gagged when his lips crushed against hers, stifling her crying whimpers. She wanted to smack this man in the face, to rage and possible murder him – he had no right to do this sinful deed. Right when she heard the sound of a belt being unhooked, there was the sound of distant shouting and the crunching of twigs breaking under boots. The man above her was suddenly wrenched away so fast that stars exploded behind her eyes at his weight suddenly vanished from her prone form.

Victoria opened her eyes to see a figure above her, hazel eyes narrowed in concern. His hair was longer than shoulder-length and somewhat wavy; he had a kind face and was around his twenty-sixth winter at the most. She opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a strangled choking sound that vibrated the back of her throat. The man said something, slowly and dolefully, but her ears failed to comprehend. She wasn't sure why she was her state of shock, honestly, this happened to many women – she was just lucky he hadn't finished what he started. The man more than likely would have killed her afterward.

Victoria felt darkness succumb to her cluttered mind as the man bent down and scooped her up into his arms.

* * *

Victoria flinched in her sleep, beginning to arouse from the feeling of a wet washcloth rubbing across the left side of her face.

"Will she be well, mother?"

"I believe so. She got minor head trauma from the hit, and the man had been wearing three rings, so there are marks across her left cheek . . . she will recover."

"Shall I inform Sir Alexander of this?"

"Yes. Now go on, Elijah, this room is too crowded."

_Elijah, _the name felt familiar and sent sparks of electricity through her veins. Was that not the man Tatia mentioned the noon before? She stirred restlessly before opening her dark eyes, only to see the lighting of a candle wick a few feet from her face. "Unhh," Victoria groaned as softly as she dared. Her legs _ached_, she was sure there were bruises around her thighs. And not to mention her _face_.

A hand slowly drifted up to inspect the damage done, but tan fingers halted her progress. "No, no, no darling. That will only increase your pain." The woman was quite tall, slim and beautiful woman with long blond hair and brown eyes – though Victoria could hardly make out any distinct features through her blurry eyes. "You are lucky that Niklaus and Elijah had been returning from hunting. Very fortunate," the woman's voice was soft and kind.

Victoria examined the small cottage around her. It was cozy with a fireplace, a kitchen with a table large enough to fit eight people, though it seemed almost too flimsy to achieve that. There were quilts draped along walls, seating areas, and the small bed that she was laying ontop of. "W-Where am I?"

"The Mikaelsons, I am Esther Mikaelson." Victoria felt oddly comforted when the woman brushed a strand of her curly hair away from her eyes, the skin of her fingers connecting against her forehead sent calm waves through her mind. "You are Victoria Valentine, yes?"

It took her a full minute for the question to register. "Yes, ma'am."

Esther smiled with the kindness of a mother. "I have heard many great things about you, my dear. Alexander has told me of your hard work on taking care of little Tatia."

Victoria managed to pull herself into a sitting position, looking down as the quilts pooled around her waist. She realized she was wearing a foreign white nightgown, she could feel bandaged and salve on the cuts and bruises along her body. "She is that of only a child, she needs a mother figure."

Esther stood from the stool she had been perching on, taking the stone basin of water with her toward the long dining table. She set it down with a soft _clank_. "You have performed that role quiet admirably." Esther's hunter green dress swiveled around her legs as she turned back toward Victoria. "Now. Come on, child; let's get you upon your feet."

When Victoria's feet touched the floor, she felt her legs tremble with the weight – but she was much stronger than she gave herself credit for. With one hand on Esther's shoulder, the other clutching the top quilt from the bed, Victoria let the soles of her feet balance out her weight. Sighing with relief, she took a step forward . . .

. . . Pain spasmed through her lower torso and Victoria felt her legs tremble before she instantly dropped like a sack of heavy rocks.

"Easy, Victoria," Rebekah was a mutual friend. The younger girl was immensely jealous of Tatia, only because she had gained the attention of her two favorite siblings. Rebekah had snaked an arm around her waist to keep her upright.

Victoria suddenly felt panic seize her heart and threaten her mind. "H-He . . ." The words were stuck in her throat, bile clogging her airways until she was forced to double over and dry heave. She didn't need them to tell her what happened. The soreness of her lower parts were burning and agonizing. Before the man had been ripped away from her, she had thought he had been _unbuckling_ his belt, but in fact, he had been _buckling_ it. Had she been frozen in fear and struggling that she had not realized? It was . . . This was too overwhelming. Tears coursed down her cheeks and sobs choked from her mouth.

Esther was weaving her fingers through Victoria's short curly hair, whispering soothing words. Rebekah was rubbing her back, her own tears threatening to fall. They may not have been close, but when any female sees a broken woman the feeling is contagious.

The front door to the hut suddenly banged open none too gently. "Ma! Ehh, Henrik is trying to chase birds again! I told him he couldn't fly _but_ –"He halted in his progressing steps into the cottage as his gaze reached the two women and girl.

"Kol! Out this instant!" Esther snapped, taupe brown eyes narrowing.

"No," Victoria sucked in a deep, composing breath as she dried her tears with the sleeve of the white nightgown. "No, no, it's quiet alright. I'm fine." She was proud to say that her words sounded sure and strong, even if she didn't feel that way on the inside. She knew that despite what people do say, first impressions did matter.

Realization had drawn the young man's featured together; it had dawned on Kol who this woman was and what had occurred the previous moon. "Miss Valentine," he bowed to the waist and smiled courteously, "it is a pleasure."

"The pleasure is all mine," Victoria beamed back. Out of all of her flaws and mistakes, she had always been told that her smile was pure and gentle – and judging by Kol's pink flush, he thought so as well. She glanced down at the nightgown that hung off her tall, limber frame and scoffed lightly with embarrassment. "How improper. Rebekah –"

"Oh," she grinned foxily, "don't worry. I'm sure a short delivery will be made soon."

As soon as those words left Rebekah's mouth, the door once again rattled open in a rush and none other than Tatia burst into the room, her beautiful brown hair flowing behind her like silk. "Oh, Vic! I thought you had been murdered!" The young girl cried. Behind her, stepping into the cottage and also having to duck under the doorframe, was a man. His hair was a darker blond, with azure blue eyes that watched Tatia move with that of near fixation. The younger girl rushed to Victoria and wrapped her arms around the woman's stomach, sobbing in relief and happiness.

She patted Tatia's back, a small smile on her lips. "Don't say something so foolish and un-lady like, Tatia."

The girl looked up at her with watery golden brown eyes. "D-Did he hurt you?"

She hesitated for only a split second, "I hardly even remember the incident."

Tatia brightened up immediately, oblivious to her false claims. "I brought you this!" She held up a plain brown dress, simple and dusty from being in her wardrobe for a long period of time.

Victoria took the dress softly, her other hand still on Esther's shoulder for support. "Thank you very much, Tatia, my dear . . . Who is your friend?" The man behind the young girl was perhaps near his twentieth winter or so, maybe more.

"Niklaus," he only nodded to her, "but you may call me Klaus."

"Klaus," she bobbed her head in a short greeting, "hello." Something seemed strange about the boy, perhaps it was the way his eyes swiveled around the room, as if he was searching for someone – or maybe it was the way he looked sad and forgotten. He seemed to be a Pariah of the family, the outcast. Victoria gripped the brown dress tighter and let go of Esther's shoulder, sending the woman a thankful look. "May I have somewhere to arrange myself?"

"Oh yes," Esther's slipped her hand into Victoria's and gently tugged her into a modest area. There was a wooden tub, a basin full of cool water, and a meager chair in the corner. "You may use this, I'll have Rebekah fetch you a pair of her old boots."

Another sliver of gratitude shot through her heart. "You'd done a lot for me, Esther Mikaelson, I owe you . . . so much." She truly did, her sons more importantly, they had defended her life when she was unable – it was true generosity in her eyes and mind. If they hadn't been here . . . Would the man have stabbed her? Would he have wrapped his larger hands around her throat, and cut off her airways? Would he have simply beaten her to near death? They were all cruel and horrific, but they were also endless possibilities.

Esther's eyes flashed with sympathy, as if she knew where her thoughts were straying. "Get dressed, my girl," she gestured to the room behind the woman.

Victoria let the mother close the flimsy wooden door. She reached down and gripped the lacy hem of the nightgown before lifting it up and over her head. Another reason why she did not choose marriage, simply because she thought her body was close to hideous. Maybe she was being modest, or bashful, but she did not like it. Her skin was pale and sallow, not tan, and she was _all_ angular and narrow. Her breasts were average for someone her age, but her hips were too slender and her legs were perhaps too long.

Victoria would sometimes stare longingly at Tatia's designed dresses, her jaded combs, the clips that she braided her hair with – it was all so beautiful. And Victoria knew that she wouldn't be able to fit into the younger girl's clothing, she wouldn't be able to run the comb through her hair, or use those clips because her hair was short.

Sighing at her hopelessly wayward thoughts, pulling the plain dress over her head and letting it slip down her limber body. She adjusted it and ran her slim fingers through her mused dark hair. Victoria opened the door with a slightly shaking hand as she confidently strolled back toward to where she had been resting. Her nether regions were in pain still, and not to mention the nausea, but putting up a brave and fake façade, Victoria simply smiled.

Until she saw _him._


	2. Tunnels of Sanctuary

**_Chapter 1_**

- **_A Millennium of Heart – _**_Tunnels of Sanctuary_

- _10__th__ Century; the Americas_

He didn't look the same as she saw him the moon before, more than likely because she had been in a state of complete horror-filled shock. His dark brown hair was longer than Niklaus's – a fraction past his shoulders, and it looked to be weaved into messy locks. His eyes were the same though: a light, indistinct hazel. His jaw-line was much defined, his lips in a smile as he gazed down at Tatia as she giggled giddily at something Kol had said. He was wearing a sleeveless brown tunic that displayed his sculpted arms with a tan sash belt around his hips to hold his gleaming, silver sword. His trousers were stained with dirt and mud, a small tear at the knee of his left leg. His chest was moving as if he had just been working, a minor coat of sweat glistening from his skin.

Much to her utter bewilderment, Victoria felt like she suddenly had a breathing dilemma. Licking her dry lips, she shoved down her strange and unusual feelings and smiled brightly. She had always learned that it was best to tell people you were okay, rather than spill out all of your disputes and complications and get nothing out of it. That person you explain it to will only give you worthless advice that won't even settle your doubts.

Victoria just stood there, watching the scene in front of her fold out. Esther and Rebekah were conversing in smiles and low voices, both cleaning up her little 'resting' spot while putting the sheet in a weaved basket to be washed. Kol had his arm slung around Tatia's shoulders, telling her a secret while Niklaus had an expression of pure jealousy though he attempted to conceal it.

And . . . Elijah was staring at _her_.

Victoria could do nothing, so she simply stared back.

"Miss Valentine," his voice was soft and well-mannered – and it sent small tingles and chills down her neck and back. He strolled forward with purpose, his boots gently tapping against wood. "My name is Elijah Mikaelson, though I'm sure you know that by now."

Victoria laughed nervously, though it was quiet and reserved. She smiled. "Victoria – though I'm sure you know that by now."

His lips quirked up at her humorous gesture. "Indeed," he said. When he reached forward and took her hand, Victoria restrained her gasp of fright. It wasn't because she was scared of someone touching her of last night, simply because when the tip of his finger brushed against her palm – lightning pulsed underneath her skin, making her knees suddenly so weak she considered going limp then and there. She knew she wasn't imagining things, because Elijah winced and instantly withdrew his hand. " . . . I-It's nice to meet you, Miss Valentine."

"Yes," she mumbled, "very nice – I better be leaving." She walked around Elijah and deliberated whether or not to tell him to call her 'Victoria' and not 'Miss Valentine' – she wasn't that old. He was probably her age, perhaps older in a small amount. But she decided against it, she wasn't sure if she could actually talk to him without making a complete fool of herself.

"Victoria! Are you departing so soon?" Rebekah appeared at the right side of her, looking concerned and slightly annoyed at not having a goodbye. Rebekah was very attractive to almost all the men in the village and had icy, natural blond hair. Her eyes were similar to Niklaus's, perhaps a shade or two lighter than ocean azure.

"I'm afraid so," Victoria turned and gave the girl a humble one-armed hug, a small smile lighting up her pale features. "Be well, little Mikaelson, I will be seeing you sooner than later, more than likely." She let the girl go, who was about Tatia's age, and turned to exit the cottage . . .

. . . And her face met a leather chest.

Victoria felt almost frightened to look up, but she knew who it was. Mikael Mikaelson. He was a middle-aged man with a tall stature. He had shoulder-length light brown hair and hazel eyes that were much like Elijah's that her heart raced. His eyes now glared down at her for making him stop inside of his home, but they were also fatherly soft – as if he felt pity for her. But that was the problem; there was only pity – no sympathy in her favor. "Leaving, Miss Valentine? It is a full moon."

That sentence made her freeze.

_ 'It is a full moon.'_

The_ beasts. _Wolves.

The Wolves were evil creatures that transformed into fearsome and extremely hostile beasts during new moons. Even in their human form, all wolves possessed inhuman physical prowess.

Victoria had never watched them metamorphose into something so volatile, but she had heard rumors: the bone crackling snaps, the pained screams, the menacing rumbles of growls.

"I'm guessing I have only two choices then, don't I, Sir Mikaelson?" Victoria took a voluntary step back inside the hut. Either go outside, be seen by the wolves, or stay and follow the Mikaelson's to the caves. It was a series of tunnels that provided protection for them when the Wolves turned on the full moon. One clear rule of the village was that the humans were forbidden from being with the wolves when they turned.

"You chose the wise one," he grunted out, stepping around her to kiss his wife on her cheek in a short greeting. He glanced around the room until they landed on Niklaus . . . and then Tatia. Mikael's snarl was feral. "I told you once, boy – you bringing home this woman is going against my authority."

Klaus clenched his jaw. "Tatia wanted to see –"

"Don't talk unless spoken to," Mikael snapped harshly, practically spitting now as he glared at him. He moved in front of the fireplace and brushed away a worn out rug, reaching down to pull at a few loose board along the floor. "Hurry now," he spoke, "we have little time."

Henrik, who had returned with Mikael from outside, and Esther were the first ones to climb down the handmade wooden ladder. Rebekah soon followed, her hand inside Kol's as he went down first and grabbed her Waist, slinging her down beside him with his strength. Elijah leant forward and whispered words to Tatia, and she nodded profusely before bounding down the ladder as well.

"After you, Victoria," Niklaus waved his arm toward the hole where it led to the dark, saturated caves. The townspeople were fortunate to have flaming torches placed to give them lighting.

"Ugh," she closed her eyes in embarrassment, "it would not me disrespectful if I asked one of you to help me?" Victoria honestly wanted to do it herself, but she didn't know if she could walk down the ladder in her current condition without falling or slipping clumsily.

"No." Mikael looked at Elijah. "You boy, help her. Now."

Victoria felt her breathing hitch in her throat. She suddenly yearned for Niklaus to benefit her by guiding her down the ladder, but Mikael had a harsh glare aimed at the man for an unknown reason. Elijah also looked uncomfortable for a split second, but as the town spoke, he was a very polite and courteous man. Like she predicted, he stepped forward and lowered himself down the makeshift ladder.

"Just jump, I'll catch you," Elijah told her. She swore she could hear Tatia's girlish giggle from nearby, and Victoria paused. She was never one to be insecure, but this man somehow _brought_ that emotion out of her. It was embarrassing and all Victoria now wanted to do was to hide away into a muddy hole and live there.

"Afraid of little heights, are we?" Kol snickered as his words echoed off of the stone walls. As Mikael snapped out a, "_Keep your trap shut, _boy," she could also hear E sther scolding him with a stern voice.

Victoria shifted uneasily and Elijah lifted up a hand for her to take, as if he was attempting to make the process much simpler – or less complicated. The fact was, she wasn't scared of heights at all, but with him standing there, she was suddenly terrified at the thought of jumping – because of the distance that would be closing.

"Time is scarce, girl, _jump_."

Mikael's grim voice was what made her finally move. Victoria took a deep breath and dropped from the side. It was only a trivial moment, but in her mind, it felt like a whole century before she made it to the bottom. Her hand had clasped Elijah's before jumping, and his left arm quickly snaked around her waist to keep her upright on the moist rocks of the cavern. She was just satisfied that none of her skin was connecting with his, or she would have surely stood frozen.

Elijah instantly departed from her side when she was steady, and Victoria made sure to smile a 'thank you' of gratitude toward his way – even if it was forced. Niklaus soon just leaped inside and crouched, waiting patiently for his father to enter as well. Victoria shivered when she heard the distant howls, the cries of pain.

Mikael entered the same way as Klaus; the two reached upward and began pulling the loose floorboards back into place. Victoria suddenly had the urge to be concerned for Alexander, was her hirer safe?

Esther saw her conflicted emotions. "Do not worry; Sir Alexander was informed of your and little Tatia's absence." Victoria sighed in relief and just watched as Finn and Elijah both grabbed torches from either side of the circular space and began strolling farther into the tunnel subterrane. She was sure to stay behind Tatia the whole time, finding it in her belief to protect the younger girl even though she had Niklaus and Elijah on both sides of her. She wondered if Tatia even actualized she was jesting with the hearts of two men. Perhaps she was too young for marriage like Alexander thinks. Victoria knew that the Mikaelsons' were a wealthy family, owning quiet some land around the town, and she also knew that Alexander would let both men court Tatia if they wished to.

This was a problem. They were brothers, blood siblings, battling over Tatia would ruin their relative relationship like a knife cutting through warm bread. It wasn't as if Tatia was not worth to fight over, she was sweet and kind – perhaps not ready to raise a child – but she was dependable in being an honorable wife.

Her attention was turned to Rebekah who was to the left of her, directly behind Elijah. She was giving the wet rocks strokes, smiling. "I love these caves, they're beautiful." They truly were. The moisture caused the cavern to gleam underneath the ethereal lighting of the torches, sending patterns and indistinct colors along the walls; bright pink, baby blue, indigo, pale purple. It was a true sight, indeed.

"Not unless you fall while running, these damned stones will tear up your legs!" Kol barked a guffaw of laughter. When he received a disapproving glare from Mikael, he quickly coughed, "Ughhh, not that – not that I've done that deed. I just . . . I heard it from town."

"You should not believe everything you hear." Victoria decided to stop being the shy woman she was not. _You should not believe everything you hear. _Victoria almost wanted to laugh at herself for saying that sentence. She was a prime example of being talked behind her back by people.

"Yes, Kol, enough sprouting nonsense," Niklaus sneered at his brother. "Why would you run in here anyway? Scared that a big bad wolf will come to get you?"

Tatia giggled gingerly. Kol scowled and only shoved his torch ahead of him as he stomped forward. "You're the only one to actually get underneath his skin like that," Rebekah snickered.

"Wrong." Niklaus turned his head toward Tatia and said in a low, flirtatious voice, "Elijah has to threaten him with chopping wood every morning just so he will get out of bed, now _that_ gets under his skin."

"It's cleaning the stables, not chopping wood," Kol muttered out ahead of them, clearly annoyed with their foul play at making fun of him.

When Tatia opened her mouth, Victoria cut in with a sly tone, "Do _not_ even comment to that, Tatia. You, the one I haft pour water on to get awake, should not even utter a laugh." There was a long moment of silence before Elijah and Niklaus burst into laughs and chuckles, which echoed off the rocks in her ears. Tatia was beat red, clearly embarrassed by what Victoria had said about her morning routines.

"Oh, well Miss _Punctual_, you must sometimes get up tardily as well?" Klaus gave her a look out of the corner of his eyes, being sure to add reference to the word 'Punctual'.

"No," Tatia grumbled, still abashed, "she gets up at dawn every morning."

Little Henrik pouted from next to Finn, in front of Niklaus. His childish face morphed into a frown. "That's no fun."

Victoria chose to not reply to their bantering conversation. Indeed, she did get up every day at dawn, mostly for chores and deliveries she was to transport around town since he was a blacksmith – the _only_ blacksmith. It was the reason behind him making a wealthy wage, not to mention he was talented in the making of forging swords and almost anything. Victoria had watched him work, and to say it was boring would be an understatement, because it was very interesting.

"Mikael! Esther! Finally, we had feared you would have not made it in time," Gerhard Rhinestone voiced his relief as he stood poised in front of his wife and three children. Gerhard was in his middle-ages, with black and grey hair and green eyes. His wife, Robyn Rhinestone, was a nice woman at the most. She had not gossiped about Victoria so the young woman respected her for that.

"Ah, Gerhard," Mikael clapped his friend's shoulder and swiveled to regard his children. "Elijah, you are responsible for your siblings . . . Victoria you are too assist him."

She blinked in surprise before widening her eyes at his choice of words. But either way, a smile began forming along her face. "Of course, Sir Mikaelson." Esther, Klaus, Elijah, Finn, and Rebekah also seemed startled by Mikael's words while Henrik just seemed confused.

Kol turned his attention to Victoria, a smirk lifting up the left side of his mouth. "He must tolerate you, Victoria – I am _almost_ jealous that he speaks to you like Elijah." His dark eyes glittered mischievously when he saw Tatia's obvious spite at Victoria for gaining Mikael's grace that she had yet to gain. "It seems as if, though, that I am not the only one."

"_Enough_, Kol," Elijah rolled his shoulders calmly, "go badger someone else."

Victoria softly touched Tatia's shoulders. "Forgive me for disrespecting you, Tatia –"

"_I don't care_," she bit out and stomped away, toward Gerhard and Robyn's little girl that was a close friend. Tatia sat beside her and they instantly began talking of dresses and hair, though Victoria could see her sending small glances as Elijah stood next to the older woman.

"I seem to forget that she is still that of a child," Victoria pursed her lips and ran her hand through her short curly hair. "Sometimes I think she resents me for trying to be her mother."

Elijah was quite for a moment, his face closed and stoic. He finally nodded in agreement. "Her mother died of illness, it is only reasonable she have a grudge." Victoria sent him a helpless frown, knowing he had made the situation worse. She was still uncomfortable even being around him, only because it felt as if she could feel some type of crackling energy balancing between them. He rephrased his sentence, "Tatia is growing, she will become educated."

Victoria only watched as Tatia swirled a lock of wavy dark hair around her index finger, laughing gently at something her friend had joked about. Her eyes quickly dropped to the damp floor of the cavern, taking more of an interest in shifting her boot-cladded feet into the indents of the rocks. She heard tinkling laughter, so her attention was now focused on Rebekah as she watched Klaus shove Kol who tripped over in his own untied bootlaces. "Rebekah!" The blond peered at the slightly miffed woman. "That is _not_ how a lady acts. Don't disgrace us for acting like a man." She didn't feel in the least guilty when Rebekah fumed with anger.

"That sounded like an insult to men," Elijah said underneath his breath.

"Not at all, at least not morally." Victoria sent him a small smile before wandering over to her right to sit against a wall. She knew it was going to be a long night in the tunnels, it always was. She was slightly tormented by the past moon, the feelings of the man's hands against inappropriate places, the back of his hand against her face. Victoria shuddered physically; she was favored for not even remembering the dreadful scene of that incident.

"Would you like some bread, my dear?" A hand briefly touching her cold cheek caused Victoria to raise her eyes to Robyn's soft amber ones, the older woman had lines beside her kind eyes, she must have been very beautiful in her prime years. The woman, who was dressed in a dark purple evening gown, had a red wooden basket with a small piece of cloth wrapped around what must have been loaves of freshly cooked bread. Victoria's mouth watered by just the heated yeast that was mixed with favorable spices.

Though, despite her roaring hunger, Victoria declined with a smile and shake of her head. "Thank you but I will haft to say no – I do not really feel comfortable eating down here."

Robyn smiled back. "That's an acceptable excuse for this time, my dear, but I will not take your 'thank you' because you will feed." She took one of the clothed loaves and set it down on Victoria's lap. "Enjoy this; the recipe was passed down by generations of my ancestors."

Victoria could not turn down her offer. "I will," she nodded and observed as the woman walked back toward her husband and Mikael, who were talking of future weather predictions made by Ayana, the town's Healer, and of the newly ranched horses they would haft to tame. Esther turned and glimpsed over Mikael's shoulder at Victoria, winking and smiling about something not even she knew of. There was something off about Esther, she did not know for sure, but it was something . . . Powerful. Something strange.

Gerhard's youngest son, perhaps about his third winter, crawled across the cavern to her and sat down to her right.

Victoria was startled by his movement and gave him a surprised look. "Well hello, little one – what is your name?"

The young boy giggled, having his father's green eyes. "Avo!"

Her smile softened considerably. "Well, Avo, would you like to half my bread?"

The little boy giggled and clapped his hands. "Nun-uh-uh . . . You name?"

"Call me Viccy."

"Yay! Bread!"

Victoria really did enjoy being around children. Somehow they could brighten up anyone's day.


End file.
